The Call of the Horn
by Love and Rock Music
Summary: Sin, secrets, magic, love. Caspian disregards Aslan's commandment and summons Lucy to post-VDT Narnia, and they must face the consequences of their romance. Continuation of Caspian's Queen by Francienyc. Now complete!
1. Call

**A/N: **This fic was written after reading a story here (I do not remember which) that gave me the idea of Caspian and the horn. It's a continuation of the amazing story, Caspian's Queen, and is written in dedication to its extremely talented authoress, Francienyc.

Also, this is the first of many stories that all fit into the universe established by my other story, A Web Woven.

**Disclaimer: **This story uses locales and characters original to The Chronicles of Narnia and copyrighted by C.S. Lewis Pte. Ltd., and is inspired by the writing of Francienyc. Ideas are reproduced here for purely entertainment purposes and not for profit.

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PART ONE - UPON MIDNIGHT

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1. Call

He should have moved on by now. He knew that. In his heart of hearts, Caspian knew that he had no true right to her to begin with. But he'd loved her anyway, and loved her still. He ached for Lucy in a way that was like an addiction. His bride, the Star's Daughter, had been like a medicine that only tempered his heart, never healing. In her arms, the comfort was not in forgetting but in remembering, and his eyes had been closed when they'd touched. He had married her because what else was there to do? Now he could barely bring himself to look at her, from guilt and shame, and also from longing. But he knew better than to place his hands on her body and lose himself. Knew it would still be the same tomorrow. He would still lie awake at night, his back to her, unable to sleep for the pain inside him.

He had begun to think that it was the moonlight that kept him from slumber. He didn't mind the slow breathing of his wife beside him, because if anything his was the breath more ragged. But almost every night, pale silver would shine relentlessly through the windows, strewn across the bed until dawn. A haunting reminder of the same moonlight rising over the waters, and the sound of Lucy's voice in his ears. When he could bear it no longer, he left.

He usually stayed to some obscure part of the castle, a different place every night. Spare rooms, high tower rooms, empty rooms saved for visiting courtiers. While he had been dealing with the Northern giants, he had commissioned Cair Paravel to be restored. He had returned to find every crevice and corner renewed and gleaming. It was a good thing, because it was every crevice and corner the King sought in his nighttime wanderings. There he sat, facing the ocean, dwelling on what was lost and what he had held so briefly in his arms, until sleep was physically inevitable. Then he crept back to his chambers and sank into a blissful peace for the few hours until morning.

The night he broke was after the feast for his one-year wedding anniversary. The whole day a false joy had been masking a deep sadness, and when the festivities ended at last, he couldn't bring himself to even try to turn in. What is expected on the night of an anniversary? He wanted her, but hated himself for wanting her, and wanting more than she could give. She knew better than to expect anything from him – his back had been turned to her for months. That night he entered his bedchamber to see her lying there, sleeping, and just as soon turned around and left her.

He stormed the castle in agitation, feeling like an imprisoned man. Trapped within the walls of his finality, doomed to accomplish no more greatness than that which he had already achieved. The adventures of discovery and love were behind him. The Dawn Treader, the end of the world, Lucy – it was all past. But he couldn't let go. Couldn't close his eyes at night without thinking of the single, chaste kiss they had shared – a kiss of farewell before she vanished from this earth. After that, he couldn't sleep at all, until the aroma of her cordial had calmed him. Her cordial . . . The thought seized him and almost without thinking he altered his course towards the treasure chamber.

He took a lighted candle with him and because he couldn't see in the small light, began to count. _One, two_. He thought of his wife asleep upstairs. _Three, four_. Seeing her there, bathed in moonlight, yellow hair gleaming, had filled him with desire. _Five, six_. But he knew that it wasn't fair to her, to use her for himself and for his own selfish love, and that any physical love would be his only, not theirs. _Seven, eight_. She had told him . . . it was her destiny to comfort a grieving king. _Nine, ten_. And he did find solace within her in the beginning, and she had helped him through the worst. _Eleven, twelve_. But now, he knew his heart still belonged to another, far away as she may be. _Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen_. And as long he felt this way, he knew it wasn't right, and he wouldn't give in to the temptation. _Sixteen_.

He glanced at the room around him. The single flame was reflected off the polished gold and jewels high on endless shelves and cases, and shining suits of armour. It was too dark to make out the oak-and-iron chests he knew were padlocked with important histories and ancient laws of Narnia. Caspian made his was through all of this, past the piles of gold and silver trinkets heaped high as the ceiling, to the very back wall where the Gifts of Golden Narnia sat in their places of honour.

He stood there for a long, long time, keeping his gaze on her cordial. Had it really been a year since it had rested on her hip? Since they had been together sailing swiftly on an ocean of lilies? He could feel every memory washing over him. One warm night, where he and Lucy had lain side-by-side on deck, and named the foreign stars in whispers. He had believed that maybe, she could return with him to Cair Paravel. But she didn't. Time had run out. Then he thought of the forever to come and felt it pierce his heart. He wanted her, _needed_ her, and couldn't live like this, without her, for much longer.

His eyes moved to the left, and fell upon Susan's bow and quiver, and then – her horn. An idea hit him with such force that he felt winded. That horn . . . had once called the four monarchs out of their world to help in times of hardship. What if – what if it could do it again? The thrill of possibility ran though him. He felt like the very air was crackling with magical energy. He could use the horn to call her here, ease his pain and fulfil his heart's desire. Lucy. . . he could have her in his arms in one breath of air. It was like his very soul was crying out to take it. He took a few small steps and stretched out his hand.

At once the loud, fierce roar of a lion rolled around the chamber, and a strong gale blew the candle out. Caspian had been king long enough to know that it was the doing of Aslan. The growl and the darkness that now surrounded him was a warning whose meaning couldn't be clearer. But he didn't care. Desperation was outweighing fear. His hands were shaking, but he reached out and took the horn. He held it close at his side, and climbed the stairs two at a time.

The moon was full and silver overhead. From the height it seemed even closer. Caspian's mind stirred and the memory of a similar castletop came to him. _The virtue of this tower, _he thought, _is that there are five floors and a locked door between me and everyone below._ He looked up at the moon in its roundness and imagined that Doctor Cornelius would say that the full moon would have an effect on any magic performed. Of course, he didn't really know this, but to think it made him feel better. He rocked back and forth on his toes nervously, hesitating over the two paths before him. He could still forsake. Could still not do it. He knew that this was wrong, knew that it was not what Aslan wanted, knew that it probably wouldn't work anyway. He could walk down those stairs, put the horn in its rightful spot, and go back to bed. He swallowed.

But there was no returning. He _needed _her.

He raised it to his lips and blew softly. It was not the loud and clear ring he knew it could sound, but a low whine with a soulful, ethereal echo. It seemed to be that the deep, mournful longing within him was transformed into tangibility in that strain of tune. The note reverberated in the air for a slow eternity, lingering quietly until the night resumed its silence. He was still. And then suddenly, she appeared before him.

She was older. Her golden hair was longer, and she had a fringe cut across her forehead. She was taller, too, even more so with the heeled shoes she wore. The sweater and skirt wrapped round her slender frame hugged curves that had not been there when he had seen her last. She was beautiful, and even in her surprise she exuded the grace of a queen.

She looked up at him, then quickly shut her eyes. Her body wavered forward and she held out her arms to steady herself. "Ca . . ." she said with her eyed closed. "Ca . . ." She was gasping but her breaths were shallow. " . . .Caspian?" She looked into his face and her blue eyes begged the question silently. _Am I dreaming?_

His heart was pounding. He could barely stand the light that was coming from the dazzling woman before him, that had made the stars disappear and even the moonlight seem weak. He was dizzy, elated, ashamed, overjoyed, unworthy; deliriously happy but deservingly condemned. He didn't think he was breathing. He wanted to take her into his arms and hold her like an anchor to his world, never to be ripped from him again. "Lucy," he said, and fell to his knees before her.


	2. Answer

2. Answer

"Caspian, how did I. . . ?" She paused for breath but said nothing, and he knew that she had seen Susan's horn in his hands. He didn't look up at her, choosing instead to keep his eyes on her shoes. He heard her voice above him again, this time softer. Almost to herself, she whispered in awe, "He said I would never come back."

His stomach lurched. _What had he done?_

She knelt in front of him, and her blue eyes filled his reluctant vision. From her face he could tell that she had decided not to dwell on her mysterious transport and save the obvious questions for later. He had always admired that about her; that she lived in the moment, valiantly facing every trial.

"How long has it been?"

"It's been a year since we returned," he told her.

She sighed, a world-weary breath that hinted at an internal struggle he guessed she was battling with. Could he do anything right? Summoning her here; it was wrong, he knew that. But this Lucy that seemed so distracted and discomfited that it made it feel ten times worse.

"It's been six years for me," she said.

He waited for her to elaborate, but she did not continue. He couldn't stop staring at her, now that she was at his eye level. Skin shining in the moonlight, long hair gleaming, eyes brightening and darkening as the clouds slid across the sky. He longed to touch her. To make sure she was really there, but he didn't dare.

She was looking at him strangely. It was an expression he had never seen her wear before, somehow more complex and more grown-up than any he remembered. She started to say something, but changed her mind, and jumped to her feet. "Well, I'm here now. What sort of adventure shall we be going on?"

He left the horn beside him and rose slowly to his feet. It surprised him how close to his height she was now. Staring once more at her feet, he spoke quietly, ashamed. "There is no adventure, Lucy. I only wanted to see you."

Her mouth twisted and she made no response.

Knowing she could just as soon disappear made him bolder. "Lucy, I. . ." he started, but she cut him off.

"Caspian, don't. Please, let's go –"

He was afraid of what she would say, though he wanted to hear it. Every word that passed from her lips was precious, but he needed to get his words out before they lost this moment and she was whisked away from him. It would be eternal torture to have had her here, but leave the most important words unspoken. "I love you," he said in a rush, speaking over her.

She bit her lip, and stepped forward, closing the distance between them. She raised her hand and held it above his face, her palm inches from his cheek. She closed her eyes when her soft touch sparked on his skin. "Shh," she said softly. Caspian had to consciously remember to breathe. Hardly believing what he was doing, he put his arms around her waist. He could see fathoms into her eyes, the colour of the ocean becalmed. They brightened and darkened as the clouds passed across the sky. She leaned into his chest and he felt her arms encircle him. He pushed his guilt and turbulent emotions aside, and rested his chin on her golden head.

He didn't know how long they stood like that. He held Lucy in his embrace and felt her frame rise with his every breath. It could have been a hundred years, or a single second. He knew he was imagining it, but her hair smelled faintly of lilies.

Finally she lifted her head, and he saw that she had been weeping silently into his tunic. Warmth breath tickled his ear when she whispered, "I'm so afraid it isn't real – I've dreamed of this for so long." Her face was timid, but he could see the hunger in her eyes clearly. It was the perfect reflection of the yearning he felt towards her. Before he knew what was happening, she had leaned upward and kissed him tenderly.

The thrill that ran through him shocked his mind and body simultaneously. To feel her mouth enveloping his was a blissful cure to the aching nights of loneliness that had haunted him. He pulled away abruptly, suddenly realising the extent of dishonour he had inflicted on the Lady he so held. He hung his head, unable to meet her gaze. "Lucy. . . I am wed to Ramandu's daughter." She said nothing, so he continued, "And I beg you to forgive my unmannered disregard to your honour."

She stared up at him, eyes blazing, pressed her lips on his in a hard kiss. After that, his code of honour as a knight and king, and any other qualms his conscience had with his present actions were pushed back to join the guilt and shame he had also suppressed. His mind became a separate thing from his hands in her hair, which in turn was separate from the wild beating of his heart. Her hands were on his chest and her mouth was on his neck: He had _never_ felt like this before.

His consciousness surfaced when he felt a light rain falling around them. He took her hand, and began to lead her to the stairs.

"Caspian, the horn," she reminded him gently. He stooped to collect it, but kept her hand clenched in his. They went out of the rain down the twisting flights of the tower, until they came to the first room below the roof. He looked at Lucy and smiled – her hair was damp and her sweater was completely soaked. His own hair was plastered to his forehead.

"Here, Lucy, there should be some robes in this locker," he said, and strode across the room to open it. She peeled off her cardigan, leaving it on the floor. He was rummaging around the small store and extracted a dusty black cloak. When he turned, she was at his side, and he awkwardly draped it over her shoulders. Neither of them spoke, and Caspian thought that just the sound of their breath was deafening. The tension in the room was overwhelming. Lightning flashed outside and the rain started to fall more heavily, pelting drops on the roof that matched his racing pulse.

She shivered, and he instinctively reached his arms around her. Time skipped a beat, and he didn't know how it happened but their mouths were locked together. These kisses were not sweet or achingly slow, but fierce and passionate. The cloak fell to the floor. A desire he hadn't known he awoke, driving him to be the aggressor. He had her pressed against the stone wall, clawing at her wet clothing, needing to be even closer, to feel his skin on hers. He stopped with his forehead on hers, and whispered hoarsely, "Lucy, are you sure this is what you want?"

"I love you," she answered, the honesty in her face visible even in the present darkness. Hands trembling, she undid his belt. He fumbled with the small, round objects over her chest, and she laughed softly. "They're called buttons," she said, guiding his hands.

He could feel her sink through his skin and settle there. The contrast of her warm skin and the cold stone sent exhilarating shivers down his back. His world was reduced to sensuous touches – his face in her hair, her hands on his body; so connected that they only had one, singular heartbeat. The muffled echoes of their surprise and pleasure were lost in the crashes of thunder. When the storm finally calmed, they lay tangled up together in the folds of the cloak, listening to the receding raindrops on the roof. Arms curled tightly around her, Caspian fell into the deepest, most restful sleep he known since they parted.

--

He awoke some hours later, when dawn was edging pink along the horizon. Lucy was sitting a little ways from him, looking up at the speck of sky visible in the high, tiny window. He said nothing, unwilling to disturb her. She was wearing his tunic loosely around her. It reminded him of how she had worn his clothes when she first arrived on the Dawn Treader.

He pushed himself up leaning against the wall, content just to watch her. He didn't think she knew he was awake, but then she turned to face him. He was relieved to see that she had not been crying, though she had a troubled look on her face.

"Caspian," she said, and though her voice was light, her eyes betrayed her. "Are we. . . dead?"

He didn't exactly know how to respond, but she went on.

"Aslan told me I would never come back to Narnia, but here I am. And even if I accept that I _am_ here, the times don't make sense. When Jill and Eustace were here, – "

"Eustace?" he interrupted, delighted. "Eustace, in Narnia! I miss that blighter, when was he here?"

"That's just it, Caspian," she said, her voice breaking a little. "Eustace and his friend, Jill, they were here more than five years ago. In our world, at least," she added.

"Five years ago!" he exclaimed. "But wasn't the voyage the first time he had ever been here?"

She nodded. "Yes, it was. And when they were here, it was to help the next king of Narnia – your son." She looked up at him briefly before saying, "You were dead."

"Dead?" he said, and pulled the cloak over his shoulders, feeling suddenly chilled. "And a son? I don't have any children, Lucy."

She shot him a glance at this, before saying, "Don't you see? It's not like any of the other times our people have been here. It's – I wish Edmund was here, he would be able to make some sense of it." Then quieter, "I wish Susan were here."

Her eyes were on the flagstone floor when she said next, "This was wrong. I shouldn't be here. And you're married, Caspian. . . This wasn't what Aslan wanted for me. . . us."

"It may have been Aslan that brought you here," he offered feebly.

"No. The horn brought me here. And if it goes against Aslan's will, then it's wrong. I'm just so confused. . . about everything."

"About me?" he asked, half afraid of her answer.

"No," she said clearly. "That's the one thing I _am_ sure of." She went over to him, slipping beneath the cloak and taking his hand. "It's exactly the trouble, because I love you and I know I shouldn't."

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**A/N: **I'm trying to make this seem realistic, but I'm having a hard time, especially with Lucy. She's written as a very innocent character, so creating believable adult scenes is difficult. You might notice that I made her the initiator, based on the idea that she's wanted this for years and had years of growing up wishing for it, while still retaining it was wrong from the beginning.


	3. Consequence

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PART TWO - AFTER THE MORNING

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3. Consequence

They were dressed when the sun had risen high enough to sit on the horizon like a great, golden ball. Caspian had finally found his left boot hiding under the staircase, and she sat braiding her hair in loose waves. They had made love again before rising from their makeshift blanket, and he felt as light and happy as a cloud floating across the heavens.

She brought him back down to reality when she voiced the question, "How am I going to get home?"

He frowned slightly, not wanting to think of this. Subconsciously he believed that they could stay in this tower forever; nestled in the bed of their passion, neither wanting nor desiring anything but each other. This wasn't practical, however, as his growling stomach reminded him.

"The horn brought you here," he said, "so it can just as easily return you to your world."

"I'm not so sure it works like that," said Lucy.

"Why not?" he said. "It works forward, surely it must work in the reverse."

"The magic of the horn is that it brings help to whoever blows it," she replied.

"And you need help getting home," he said with certainty.

"Caspian," she said, stressing her words lightly. "The horn _brings_ help. Nothing about _returning_ was ever mentioned."

"Mentioned?" he grunted, lacing up his boot as he spoke. "Where are you getting all this information from, anyway? And since when are you so eager to leave?"

"I'm not," she said teasingly. Her eyes cast downward for a moment when she added, "I don't think I have a choice about it. Aslan has always brought us back when the time was right. Anyhow, I know all about Susan's horn. I was there when she got it."

"How? Where did she get it? A magician? The White Witch? Dwarfs?"

"Father Christmas," she said, and laughed at the incredulous look on his face. "Did you say dwarfs? Wonderful smiths they may be, but dwarfs can't fashion a horn with magical properties."

He grinned at her, getting to his feet and offering his arm for her.

"I suppose there's nothing for it but to try it, and then go from there," said Lucy.

"Yes, I suppose; but at the moment I'd rather some breakfast," he said.

"Oh, I can't wait to see everyone!" she said excitedly.

Caspian stiffened inwardly at this, but he said nothing and he hoped she didn't notice his silence as she chattered on about those she had missed and wanted to see. What if she told? He had a wife, and subjects waiting downstairs, and if they knew what he had done. . . He would be forever shamed, the unfaithful king, the twice-made deserter. He wouldn't say anything to Lucy – he loved her more than Narnia itself wouldn't hurt her for anything. But he couldn't just announce to the court that she had simply turned up in the night, here for a visit? He didn't know what to do. Last night he had been so confused; this morning he knew that his place was in her arms. But did she have a place in Narnia?

He shook his head, trying to clear his mind and savour this time he had with her. If she was right, then Aslan could take her back home at any time. Regardless of what might happen or what people would say, he knew he loved her and wanted her here with him. They exited the tower and walked among the battlements hand in hand. It was too late for regrets anyway.

They were still quite high up, and they strolled along the deserted place in a comfortable silence, looking out at the country below them. It was some moments later when she whispered to him, "Caspian, I think someone is following us."

He immediately fell into step behind her, regretting that he had no weapon, and glanced back. Nothing. The battlements were still empty.

"There's nothing there," he said confidently.

"Caspian, I _know_ there's something. I feel it; I do, I do." She looked behind her again, and quickened her pace. She took his hand once more and led him with her, easily following the castletop she knew so well.

"I feel very queer," he remarked in a whisper.

"Shh!" she said, hastening even more. Her heels made a very loud clattering on the stone.

They turned a right-angle corner, and she stopped abruptly and turned around. "Look," she said.

Caspian followed the direction of her finger, pointed toward the archers' corridor they had emerged from. The bright rays of sunshine seemed to curve around empty space. In blinding light, the magnificent figure was illuminated into view. Aslan himself was before them; noble, terrible, and majestic, his presence giving off a golden warmth from mane to tail.

Caspian fell to one knee at once. Lucy stood at his side, head bowed.

The Lion said nothing.

It became increasing uncomfortable to kneel, staring at the flagstones, in the uneasy silence. Lucy's words a few hours before echoed through Caspian's mind. _If it goes against Aslan's will, then it's wrong_. He remembered the fierce warning before he had snatched the horn from the treasure chamber. He _had_ known it was wrong. A sickening guilt churned in his stomach and compressed his chest. It felt like the unnerving quietness was swallowing the rooftop. Caspian was pretty sure everyone could hear his heartbeat. The seconds ambled on, and still they waited, feeling his gaze burning into them.

Finally the Lion gave a great sigh and spoke.

"O, how the children of Adam and Eve repeat their same follies! Children, children, do you see what you have done? Even in this hour the fate is sealed, and these matters I cannot undo. This was not how I intended things to happen. Your line of Adam's sons was not meant to veer in this manner."

Beside him, Lucy took a sharp breath that sounded like a hiccough.

"Then – then it wasn't you that sent Lucy here, sir?" Caspian asked feebly.

"Queen Susan's horn was the summons," he said.

He could not help adding, "Mightn't you have stopped it?"

"No, Son. Things must always work according to their nature. And she would not have answered had she not also been calling you."

He was quiet for a minute while the gentle breeze blew through his mane.

"Aslan – please –" Lucy began.

He turned his big, golden eyes to her and spoke softly.

"This was not the purpose, but what's done is done. Mourn not, Dear one, for you are still Dear to me. The pain in leaving will be more than punishment enough.

"And now," he said louder, "you must face the future you have created. Go, and be blessed with these months that will bring you both joy and sorrow. Be well. I will return at the proper time."

The light around him shown brighter for an instant – too bright to look at – and Caspian looked back and he was gone.

She was still standing next to him. Even though they had been told she would stay, he was still almost shocked to see her standing there, still solid, still real, still his.

"Lucy!" he said, his voice merry. "You're staying! It will be like it was when you reigned here ages ago. You –"

He stopped talking abruptly when he caught sight of her expression. Her eyes were wide and blank; she was not looking _at_ him. He shook her shoulders gently.

"Lucy, Lucy, are you alright?" he asked anxiously.

He had expected her eyes to suddenly focus and come back to the present, but she blanched alarmingly. Although she spoke, her voice was weak. She actually _sounded_ pale.

"Caspian, didn't you understand what He meant by 'what you have done'? He was supposed to take me home, but he couldn't, not anymore."

"Why?" he asked, not following her.

"Caspian! Please, just look at me. Aslan can't take me home _because _of what _we did._ The consequences. They were bigger than only you and I."

"What?" he said, his mind elsewhere. He didn't he think she should be this upset. Their reprimand hadn't been too severe, and Aslan had said the time she remained here would be joyous. "I'm just happy you're not going home yet."

"_Caspian!_" she said, grabbing his sleeve, desperation in her voice. "I _can't_ go home. Not like this. Not if I am carrying our child."

His heart stopped and he met her eyes.

"What?" he repeated.

She nodded at him, lips tight between her teeth.

He could feel it all crashing down around him; his reputation, his throne, his life. This was his fault, and it wasn't only hurting him. Aslan, Lucy, Narnia. . . everything.

Her voice was meek, and she seemed so much younger when she looked up at him with frightened eyes.

"What are we going to do?"

His head was spinning. A child? O, Aslan, a child. He felt an odd contradiction of disgrace and elation. How could this have happened? Well, he knew how it happened. But what could they do now? A child. . . He felt the heavy weight of rash decisions pushing down on his shoulders. Lucy was here for the cursed time to wait out this pregnancy, and he. . . he would have to pretend that all was how it appeared. And his wife would be – but maybe Lucy would demand her right as an Ancient Monarch of Narnia, demand to be Queen once more. No. She wouldn't do that. But could he condemn her to live in secret for this time?

He didn't know what to do. He saw her distress and did the only thing he could think to do: take her into his arms and hold on, as tightly as he could.

--

They may have stood like that for an eternity, but Caspian's numb brain registered that his legs were moving. She was leading him toward the direction of the South Tower. He barely realised where they where going, down steps and through passageways. He thought dimly of the dangers of anyone sighting them, but his mind laughed bitterly, thinking of the child to come and then they would all know much worse.

She turned the umpteenth corner and finally let go of his hand. They were in a tiny anteroom, one he had never seen before, that was unremarkable except for its small size. It was hardly a closet; one he guessed was somewhere in the back, unused parts of the castle. Caspian peered out into the hall, unsuccessfully trying to orient himself.

Lucy was studying the stones in the wall, counting softly. He heard her say, "_There you are._"Before he understood what she was doing, she had pressed a stone back into its foundation and suddenly, the wall to his right slid back without a sound.

He stared in amazement, but she took his hand once more and pulled him inside the chamber. He didn't see how, but she closed the entrance behind him, encasing them in darkness.

She found his other hand and grasped it tightly. Her hands were cold.

"Where are we? I didn't even know this was here," he said, breaking the absolute silence.

She took a even breath, and her voice became almost like it had been when she used to tell him stories about the Golden Age.

"Peter found it," she answered quietly. "It was probably a year after we were crowned. It was raining, and we were exploring the castle. He happened to lean on exactly the right stone, and it opened up.

"It was a lot louder then," she added. "But Edmund took it apart once to see how it worked – it turned out to be a system of pulleys. And when he finally put it right again, it was quieter.

"We kept it a secret, as a way to get out in case the castle was ever sacked. Only our closest advisers ever knew about it."

She took a deep breath, squeezed his hands in hers, and continued in a low, steady voice.

"Caspian, I love you. I love Narnia. I'm not a fool; I know what would happen if anyone ever found out about this. I don't want your reign to fall because of some scandal. I may not be able to leave, but I can stay in here," she said.

"Here?" he said, taken aback at her plainspeak. She was willing to stay in this little chamber, for months on end, to protect _him_. "Lucy, you can't."

"I will," she replied. Almost as if she had read his mind, she added, "It's not only this room. The passages start here and go through the whole castle. Three of them lead outside."

"Lucy. . . it –"

"_No_. This is how we have to do it. We're all we have, Caspian. I'll stay here. It won't be so bad. And you'll go out and do the duties that a king must do." She paused, and then said, "This morning has already been long, and you'll be missed. You should go."

Caspian felt like the night before – even this morning – was ages ago. Had it only been hours ago that they had smiled in the sunrise, basking in each other's embrace? And now they were holed up in this dark passage that she was ready to confine herself to, for him. He groped blindly, taking her face in his hands. He was startled to find her cheeks wet, and wondered at her ability to speak so calmly even in such distress. He met her lips briefly in a kiss that he hoped said everything he couldn't.

She rose, and opened the wall for him to return.

"I can't leave you here," he said. "It will be dark, and you'll be alone."

"I'm not afraid," she said in a voice that betrayed no tears, and closed the wall.

* * *

**A/N: **Okay, okay. I know pregnancy is a common cliché of fan fiction, but this is sort of central to the story. If you've read A Web Woven you'll know what I mean.


	4. Countenance

4. Countenance

The dim passageway was dazzling after his eyes had gotten used to the darkness in the secret room. Caspian walked ahead, trying to work through his thoughts and breathe normally. Everything seemed so surreal to him. He didn't feel like the same person he was yesterday. Part of him was so much older, but his other half felt like he was barely fifteen. How had everything become so warped? It was his fault, and he knew it. Why had he folded so easily? Given in to temptation so readily? And now all this, to live in secret and lie to his people. His head was pounding; anger, love, regret, and shame rotating to the forefront of his mind in a vicious circle.

It took him more than a half hour to navigate out of the dark stone hallways, but he was careful to remember the direction back, so that he could find his way again.

It looked like it was about nine o'clock, nearly two hours after he usually rose. What was he going to say? Here he was, two hours overslept, dressed in yesterday's clothes. They would know. He knew they would. He stopped a little ways from the Great Hall. Different members of the court were already about and preparing for the day. He stopped and tried to think, but to save his life he was unable to remember the business he had to attend to today.

Caspian slipped into a little alcove, trying to smooth out the creases in his tunic and make his hair look tamer. Then, he squared his shoulders and walked in.

"Your Majesty! Where have you been this morning?" said a voice. It was Madge, a kindly hedgehog who had taken a motherly interest towards him over the past years. She and the rest of the serving staff were just finishing clearing the remains of breakfast.

He had been expecting the question, but when he searched with mind for some response all ideas seemed to have deserted him. "I – ah – went for an early morning stroll. I suppose I lost track of time," he invented.

"You'd best get on to council chambers," she said, handing him a thick slice of bread. "Odin's been through twice asking for you."

Caspian hurried off to the western wing of Cair Paravel, where all matters of state were handled. He ate his bread guiltily, remembering that Lucy had not had anything to eat since the previous night. A form ahead hobbled toward him out of a doorway; it was Odin, a large, dark-feathered eagle who was one of Caspian's most learned counsellors.

"Sire!" he cawed. "The meeting was to be called nearly half an hour ago. Come inside!"

Caspian gulped and went through the door. All the lords and advisors looked up and gave him expectant looks. He cleared his throat.

"Forgive my lateness, gentlemen. I was preoccupied this morning with thoughts of our discussion. Let us now begin our congress," he said stately. It was a complete lie – he hadn't the faintest inkling of the topic they had convened for. Some looked at him doubtfully, no doubt taking in his dishevelled appearance. However, the majority seemed satisfied, and the first speaker shuffled his papers and stood up to make address.

It was a run-of-the-mill budget meeting that concentrated mainly on trade with – Terebinthia? Caspian wasn't exactly sure. Even in the past his mind had been elsewhere during meetings such as these, but today it wandered, understandably, worse than ever. How could he focus on the economics of trade after all that had happened? He acted against the will of Aslan, and now Lucy was with child. How were they going to manage this? The same phrase kept going around in his head. _What are we going to do? _

Finally, _finally_, the meeting was over. Caspian had been hoping he could sneak off to his chambers to lie down, rest and think, but no such luck. Odin shuffled him off to lunch with the market Merchants' board, and after that, a reconvene meeting with the committee from the morning.

What was possibly the longest day of his life came to the worst imaginable conclusion. It was a solitary dinner with the Queen. They ate in silence, and the long table between them stretched to acres. Caspian felt a guilt so acute that couldn't look her in the face. Alone out of everyone else, she could guess the truth. She had done _nothing _to deserve dishonour as that he committed. And again, words that pained him all day, that constricted his chest and made his heart beat in an unnatural rhythm, came to him again. _How can we ever do this?_

--

He couldn't stand to wait another second. He had been lying in bed for hours, waiting until it was safe to creep out into the castle. It was impossible to know what time it was and he was achingly tired, but he forced his opened wide and thought of Lucy. He wasn't going to keep her scared and alone any longer. Careful not to disturb his wife, he pushed the covers back and tiptoed out of bed.

Caspian went out of the royal bedchamber, down several staircases and into the kitchens. There was not much food that he could see, only a few loaves of bread and some apples. Taking a clean cloth, he wrapped everything in a neat bundle that he flung over his shoulder. He grabbed a flask of wine and one of water, setting off towards to back of the castle.

He had wandered at late hours many times without fear of encountering anyone, but tonight he was particularly nervous. If someone came and saw him with a food parcel, they were sure to ask awkward questions. Questions that he had no idea how to answer.

The small light of the lamp did not aid his vision very much. Caspian felt like he wove his way through the narrow stone halls for nearly an hour before he thought he had found the place. Squinting in the dimness, he pressed his hand to the cool stone and the wall slid back.

He heard a hesitant voice whisper into the darkness.

"Caspian?"

Dropping the pack on the floor, he rushed into the room and took her into his arms.

--

He was quiet while she ate the bread and apples hungrily. Now that he had the lamp, he could see the chamber properly. It was an unfurnished, low-ceiled stone passage. There were no windows, but at either end low archways were discernible in the shadows.

When she rested, leaving only half a loaf of bread and two apples, he spoke.

"Were you all right? I came as soon as I could," he said.

She looked up at him. "It wasn't as bad as you might think. Not nearly as awful as the time I was captured and held as a hostage," she answered cheerfully.

"You – you were - ?"

"Yes, and _that_ was bad."

Caspian wasn't yet ready to say what he wanted, so instead he gestured at the two openings and asked her where they led.

"The one on the right goes two floors down, to the armoury, and the one on the left leads into a tunnel that comes up in the stables," she said. Silence fell over them, and they tried to break it at the same time. He awkwardly seized the opportunity.

"Lucy, I don't know how we're going to do this. Today –" he started, but she cut cleanly across him.

"Caspian," she said. "I know what you're going to say. I've been in here all this time, remember? I've thought a whole lot about everything, and I think we can pull it off. What month is it?"

"Yellowleaf," he answered.

He felt her hand take his. "We can do this. I know you're afraid, and I am too. But. . ."

She came closer to him and rested her head on his arm. "We'll make it. I've a few ideas."

They sat there for hours, sometimes speaking and other times silent, until Caspian roused himself to return. He offered Lucy the lamp, but she declined.

"Could you maybe bring some candles – beeswax, the kind that burn for very long?" she asked. He promised to remember them.

He left her there as alone and dark as yesterday, but less worried himself. Her words had strengthened him, given him hope that maybe everything would turn out right. She was a secret he could carry around inside him, fortifying him, keeping him afloat. Nothing had changed – but Caspian felt like he could face anything with Lucy by his side.

* * *

**A/N: **I really don't like this chapter, but it was kind of necessary to go where I wanted to. I promise, the next chapter gets much more into things. As always, feedback either positive or negative is very welcome.


	5. Together

* * *

PART THREE - INTO THE NIGHT

* * *

5. Together

Caspian walked his familiar nightly path with ease. His gait was that of a man anxious to reach his destination, and the rapid swingings of the lamp and hamper on his arm only added to his air of impatience. He passed through the kitchens without much interest, pausing only to fill the water-skin he carried, ignoring the shelves and cupboards that he knew held nothing of substance. From there he made a right-hand turn and pulled open the wooden door that led to the cellar. Here, he took various meat-pies and sweet breads, taking many of a particular honey cake. These he added to the wicker basket that contained the water-skin.

Once he had everything he wanted, Caspian hurried up the stairs and into the hallway, remembering, as a responsible person would, to shut the door behind him. He wove in and out of narrow stone passages with very little attention, feet guided by the invisible force of routine. In minutes he was before the wall that concealed his purpose in journey.

The chamber opened. From the ten or so lit candles, he could see the room very well. Once devoid of any objects, it now displayed the slow accumulation of his nightly visits. There were many stacks of books and one or two small end tables, on which rested supplies of pen and ink and parchment. At one end there was a high pile of his own clothes, matched in height by the similarly folded pile of blankets. Hampers larger than the one he carried occupied another corner. In middle, amongst a sizeable mass of cushions and pillows, lay Lucy, reading a book by the light of the lamp.

"Caspian!" she said, closing it and smiling at him. "I was hoping you would come tonight."

Relieving himself of the basket, he went over and kissed her. "I have missed you these three nights," said he, "but the talks took us far into the evenings and I couldn't leave."

"I thought they might. It is a persistent sort of problem. Galma and the Seven Isles never saw on exactly the same level, even in our day."

If this was indeed so, then relations had only worsened in the millennium that had passed. Trade negotiations had gotten so bad between them that news of one or two skirmishes at sea had reached Narnia. As the principal crown, Caspian had invited both parties to resolve their differences in the safe neutrality of Cair Paravel.

"The true problem lies in unfair representation," he described. "Each of the Isles, as you know, are united only to a certain extent. All seven princes insisted on coming – and of course they outnumber the Galman king. None of their interests are quite the same, and each presents a different compromise. The poor man must argue with each of them in turn! And we are getting nowhere," he said, with something near disdain in his voice.

"Don't think about it," she advised. "Anyway, you're here now, and once all this is over you can go back to coming every night like always."

From the way she spoke, it was impossible to keep the smile from spreading over his face.

"What do you have with you?" she asked coyly.

"My usual wares." He opened the hamper and pulled out the sack of food and the water-skin. "A book," he said, tossing it to her. "Another blanket."

"Caspian!" he heard her interrupt. "Winter is _ending_. That means I would need fewer blankets, not more!" said Lucy.

Finally, with a flourish, he produced a manuscript from the basket. "The draft of the trade agreement, as written by myself and Odin. We had such trouble with it I thought you might look it over," he said, handing it to her.

She rose to her feet excitedly, already reading the first page. She sat at one of the tiny tables, pen in hand. He could hear the scratching of the nib while her put the food away. He settled down in the cushions, feeling anything but drowsy, waiting for her. The moments stretched on and Caspian did not take kindly to being second for her attentions. He bit his tongue as long as he could, but the effect of three nights' combined separation – a waste of time that was so valuable – and his impatience from earlier was not wont to stay silent. Therefore, only four or five minutes had passed before he said, "Lucy, necessity of correction is undeniable on the document. To deprive me of your company, however, is abuse directly to my person."

She laughed and said, "All right, take it tomorrow then." Abandoning her work, she went over to the cushions and nestled herself comfortably under his arm. "Where did we leave off last time?" she asked.

"Your turn. I finished about the wedding and the anniversary night."

She looked thoughtful before she began, "The night you called me." Her tone was wistful; sad. "I was rather upset, because that evening I was out with Susan and her friends. The man she's seeing – he brought a friend with him for me. . . he wasn't nice. And I was thinking about Narnia, and the people here. . . you. I missed being a Queen, because I knew you would never, ever treat me badly."

Caspian did not feel well, hearing this. She rarely spoke of _her_ world. When they exchanged stories as they did every night, the were usually from the reign of the Golden Age. Battles, anecdotes, misadventures with her brothers and sister. Not this.

"I missed you, you know. I never stopped loving you, but I understood that I would never see you again. It was only when I was really upset that it hurt. That night. . . I thought about you a lot. I was only home for a little while, and then I was here."

He wrapped his arms around her tighter, as if speaking about the place would somehow draw her back there. "Never mind it. Your coming was the best thing that ever happened to me." He kissed her forehead. "Besides meeting you, of course."

--

Returning to his own chambers, Caspian felt a sense of relief that had been unattainable the past few days. He did not like to admit it to himself, but the times where he was forced to miss his nightly visits – entertaining foreign nobility, revels that continued till dawn, or even sheer exhaustion – made him most uneasy. Even though Aslan had acknowledged her continued presence, part of him felt like she would disappear if he did not set eyes upon her every few hours. After all, away from the chamber, it was very easy to believe she was dream. He lived like he always did. There was no outward difference, nothing to challenge the ordinary. When he had to endure nights without her, it was impossible agony that he spent worrying and half-questioning his own memory and sanity. The comfort and confirmation of seeing her there; solid, real, and waiting for him, was like none he had ever known.

He crawled into bed just as twilight gave way to sunrise. Already he wished evening would arrive. Sleep came with the calming thought: There will be no other day, he swore, that we are not together.

--

_She woke up coughing. It was dark – nearly all the candles had gone out – but she could see that the room was filled with thick smoke. She heard yelling and voices outside the passage. Where was Caspian? Had he left while she slept? Searching in the hazy light, she found a handkerchief to tie over her mouth and nose. _

_The corridor was full of courtiers, but animals and people alike ignored her. She had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. What was going on? She stared confusedly into the din, and jumped when she felt a hand on her shoulder; it was Susan, dressed like a queen but with hair shorn above her shoulders, and lines of mascara running down her cheeks. _

"_Lu,_"_ she said. _"_Come on, we've got to get out of here._"

"_No – not without Caspian. I've got to find him!_"_ she replied. _

_Susan nodded, and smiled sadly. _"_I_'_ll meet you at the beach._"_ The smile did not reach her eyes. _

_Lucy picked up her skirts and ran, the handkerchief streaming after her until she lost it behind her. The smooth stone floor was warm to her bare feet. In the crowd she bumped into several others, but in her haste did not afford an apology. When she first reached the Great Hall, everything was so chaotic that she did not immediately realise where she was. There was screaming and the sound of splintering wood, and even more people swarming around her. Ash was falling from the ceiling like snow. _

_She called his name out frantically, choking on the smoke until she could not muster breath to continue. She spun round, dizzy and ready to collapse, until finally she felt a hand take hers and lead her through passages outside. _

_It was Caspian, she knew from the feel of his hand. But his hair was so dark and messy that from behind he could have been Edmund. They ran out the castle doors to the front lawn. Members of the court were all around them, running also to the grass. Still there was no attention given to her at all; no exclamations of recognition, no scandalous accusations. Not a single person seemed to notice the woman, a queen of Narnia, that their king pulled along behind him. _

_They stopped before reaching the gardens. Panting, Lucy raised her gaze to the castle. _

_Cair Paravel was on fire. Thick black smoke issued from every stained-glass window and the noble stone was crumbling like pastry crust before her eyes. She turned her back on the flames and looked into the mainland. On the horizon she could see twin tornadoes descending upon Narnia. Caspian saw them too, and whispered in her ear, _"_Don't worry, my love._"

"_Caspian!_"_ she shouted, hoping he could hear her over the melee. _"_The beach!_"

_They made it, albeit out of breath, around the grounds and saw Susan at the edge of the water. The wind tossed up her hair and her face was vacant. She stood alone, with the burning castle to her left and the ocean to her right._

_The sea was more stormy than she had ever seen it. What should have been a blue sky was flushed a violent purple and giant rolling waves crashed against the sand. Lucy looked out into the water and let out a gasp of surprise. A figure was bobbing up and down in the churning waves. Her face was strange yet familiar – Lucy had seen it once before, in the waters at the world's end. It was the fish-herdess that had smiled at her from below the water's surface. She waved at Lucy, beckoning her, and at once Lucy plunged in. The water was ice-cold and the salty spray stung her eyes. She yelled for Susan and Caspian to follow her. They dived and all three swam after the Sea Girl. Far down the coast, a solitary lighthouse loomed up out of the water. _

_ They were nearly there and Lucy was achingly tired she when heard Susan's scream. _

"_Lucy!_"_ she shrieked, arms flailing. _"_I can't make it! I –_"_ her head went down, and when it came back up, she cried, _"_Help me!_"_ but Lucy was too far away to do anything to help her. Caspian was heaving her up to the lighthouse shore and all she could do was watch in horror. Susan's head disappeared below the churning waters and did not re-emerge. _

_She clung to Caspian's side, sopping wet and feeling sicker than anything, staring at the spot when her sister had been. The Sea Girl had vanished. Lightning cracked across the sky. In the distance, Cair Paravel was devoured in wind and flame._

--

The next night he was just as eager to see her. When the stone drew back, however, he was alarmed to hear muffled sobs coming from within. At once, he rushed to her side. She was curled up in blankets and for some reason, two of his shirts.

She turned her tear-streaked face away from him, but allowed herself to be caught up in his embrace. The last time she had been crying on his shoulder, he had been quite at a loss as to what to do. He was also rather distracted. Months spent in her company, however, and the fact that she was carrying his child had elevated – if it was indeed possible – his concern for anything that might harm her.

"Lucy, what's happened? Are you all right?"

He got the feeling she was trying to suppress herself for his sake and it bothered him. He rubbed her back gently, coaxing the words out of her.

"I – I'm sorry," she said quietly. "It was – a – a dream. Just a dream."

"A dream?" he asked. He detested anything that made Lucy cry, but dreams weren't something that he could hide, send away, or impale his sword upon. He wanted to ask her what sort of nightmare could cause her such distress, but thought better of it, unwilling to make her relive anything.

He felt her nodding into his neck. She was no longer crying. After a few moments, she raised her head. She sniffled loudly, then said, "How were the talks today?"

Glad for the topic, Caspian answered, "We make no progress. The princes have begun quarrelling amongst themselves."

"I finished checking over the trade agreement," said Lucy. She pulled it from between the pages of the book beside her and handed it to him.

"Really?" said Caspian. He flipped through the pages, noting the additions in her neat hand, and smiled. "You seem to favour generous means to the Galmans."

She gave a small smile of her own. "Together the Seven Isles are larger than Galma. Allowances must be made for the smaller of the two, yes?"

"And the hot tempers of the disunited Princes had no influence?"

"Well," she started, but Caspian laughed at her ability to judge correctly. When he stated this, though, all she replied was, "I'm nothing to Edmund." She sounded a little melancholy again, so he said quickly,

"The snowdrops are in bloom."

"They are?" said Lucy excitedly. A dreamy expression came onto her face and she sighed, "The heralds of spring." She leaned back into his chest and closed her eyes. "Tell me about them, Caspian. Tell me about outside."

It was a request she made often. He knew she missed fresh air and the Trees and the ocean, and he obliged whenever she asked. He spoke into the stillness, trying to make the pictures come alive for her.

"The snow is nearly gone and the wind doesn't have the bite of winter any longer. Soon the Great River will thaw and the streams will run again. All the icicles under the North Gate keep shrinking. Pattertwig is here; he is awake and very fat. None of the trees have yet woken, but it is almost time. There are fields and fields of snowdrops."

For some time after he finished, they sat quite silently. He wondered if she was thinking still of the dream, but did not speak the question. Their fingers twining together, said everything and nothing. Silence, Caspian mused, was never uncomfortable between them. Just being together was enough.

* * *

**A/N:** I finished re-reading Pride & Prejudice before writing the bulk of this chapter, and I feel like the writing (especially the first few paragraphs) bears a bit of Austenian influence.

The dream - just to clarify - was from Lucy's point of view. It was kind of to show that Lucy's not quite the ever-valiant heroine that she puts on. She's got her doubts and fears and they manifest most prominently in dreams, when we're most vulnerable. Everything in the dream sequence has a degree of symbolic meaning attached. Caspian, being a man, doesn't realize how internally unbalanced she is. (He'll figure it out, later on.) For an in-depth analysis, you can check out its blog over at my website (the link can be found in my profile).


	6. Juncture

6. Juncture

"Oh, Caspian! They're beautiful!"

He smiled and gave a stately bow. Holding the bouquet out to her, he said, "For my Lady, the first flowers of spring."

She giggled and swept a curtsy, taking the flowers and burying her face in them. "They smell delightful. _Exactly_ like spring." Her eyes were closed. "I can see everything," she said. "It's all in bloom. The air is full of flowers. . . The baby birds are hatching! The grass is green again. . . and the sky – "

He laughed. "You can tell all that from the smell of them?" he asked.

"Of course I can," she replied in a mock-serious tone. "My nose always knows springtime," she said, tapping it.

Caspian put his arm around her waist and drew her towards him. "It does?" he asked, placing a kiss on the tip of her nose.

"Mm-hm," she nodded, giggling again. She rose onto her toes and kissed him on the mouth.

He could have continued in this manner for quite some time, but he could feel her swaying in his arms, so he set her down into the pillows and asked, "Are you all right?"

"I'm just a little light-headed, I'll be fine," said Lucy. "I do love the flowers." She leaned back and inhaled their scent once more, and plucked out a small white blossom. "Lilacs are my favourite," said she, "but daisies are my second-favourite."

She busied herself threading the few other daisies through her hair. Hair, Caspian noticed, that had gotten longer. The unsettling idea of time running out was banished quickly to the very back of his mind. He didn't want to think of that now. Instead, he flopped down beside Lucy and pulled her into his arms. Behind her hair, he smiled; her stomach had lump of roundness to it.

"Did I tell you who shall be escorting the princess?" he asked.

"No," she answered.

"Well," he said, "Drinian and his entire fleet wintered at Galma. They arrive with the rest of the royal family for the wedding."

"Oh, the wedding," she sighed. "It _is _the perfect way to settle all this conflict. What would we have done if the prince of Brenn _hadn't _offered to marry the Galmian princess!"

"I know not," he said, kissing her cheek.

She closed her eyes. "The wedding will be lovely. The flowers – and the music!" Her voice became dreamy, and she continued, "We only ever had one wedding at Cair Paravel in our day. It was beautiful. . .The ceremony and the dancing and all our friends! Weddings are so marvel–"

"Please, Lucy," he interrupted. "I had a wedding of my own, and though it was grand, it held no such joy in my heart."

She stopped at once, and softly she said, "Caspian, I'm so sorry. I forgot entirely. . ."

"It is nothing – I only wish not to speak of it." There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, but he brought her fingertips to his lips and the uneasiness melted away.

"But what I meant to say," he continued, "was that Drinian will be in the castle. He is my friend and closest advisor, and I trust him completely. If you wish it also, I would make your presence known to him. I know he would breathe nary a word."

She hesitated. "I suppose it would be all right," she said.

--

The salty sea breeze whipped his hair around his head. For a moment, Caspian could pretend that he was not on the edge of the dock at Cair Paravel, but in the prow of the Dawn Treader, streaming across the horizon with Lucy. That the greatest troubles were mere dragons and sea monsters.

The first ship of the fleet docked and its stately passengers gradually emerged. Caspian bowed low before the princess, who was as freckled and squinty-eyed as he remembered. He made a mental note to make sure the prince of Brenn was knighted.

Finally, he turned to the captain and embraced him like a brother. "My lord and friend," said Caspian, "your counsel has been most missed."

Drinian grinned, and the procession began the walk back up to the castle.

--

Caspian was waiting in the throne room, alone, watching the tide roll out toward ocean. The sky was purple, and the small clouds were tinged pink with the light from the sunset in the west. As he stared out at the simple beauty, his only thought was wishing to share the moment with Lucy. He knew it could never be, that it was too dangerous – but, oh, he wished that they could. To walk among fields of trees and flowers, surrounded by his friends and subjects: It was a privilege they could not afford, and one which he never realised the true value of. Something she had said a few nights ago had left him quite unsettled.

"Caspian," she said, and her voice had been low and timid. "I think I've rather forgotten what sunshine is like. The warmth and the light. . . it's been so very long."

How his heart had ached then! The next night, he arrived with lamps of all shapes and colours, but it was no good. The smile on her mouth was not present in her eyes, and he knew not what to do. He needed a friend, someone to talk with and confide in – for so many months he had been alone in the most trying, most exhilarating time of his life. And now, finally, his most beloved and trusted friend was returned to him.

As if cued by his thoughts, the door at the far end of the room creaked and opened. Caspian did turn from the window. There was no need. Only one man had been invited there.

"You summoned me, Sire?"

"Yes," said Caspian.

There was a short pause in which Caspian contemplated how the breach the subject. He could think of nothing, however, so instead he gestured to the ocean still visible in the small sunlight and said, "How is the water? As thrilling as I remember it?"

"Indeed," replied Drinian, coming to stand beside him.

The men gazed out into the sunset in total silence, until Caspian could no longer bear it.

"Drinian," he said, in a voice so serious his friend turned at once to look him. "Have you ever wanted something so badly that you did something. . . that you knew was wrong to acquire it?"

"Only in my youth, my King. I disobeyed my mother's will and ran away to sea," he said.

"And did it all come out right? Running away, I mean," Caspian asked.

Drinian laughed, and replied, "She was quite angry at first. But what troubles you, my liege?"

Caspian did not answer right away; he was looking out onto the ocean. Keeping his eyes on the water, he said, "What do you remember about the Queen Lucy?"

Drinian cleared his throat. "She was kind and brave, and brought a great deal of cheer to the voyage. And I know you cared very much for her."

"And if I told you that she was returned to Narnia, what would you say of that?"

"I would keep confidence if your Majesty requested it, and I would also hope to see her before she left," he said.

Caspian finally turned. He met Drinian's eyes, he said, "Lucy is here. I used Queen Susan's horn to call her, five months ago." He cast his eyes downward, then added, "She is with child."

Drinian inhaled a deep breath, exhaling slowly. Caspian's heart was pounding. He hoped that his friend would not shame him. That no harsh judgement – as deserving of it as he may be – would be passed upon him. He waited two long minutes for a response.

"Well," said Drinian. "May I see her?"

--

The next morning, the two men occupied the throne room once again, gazing through the window at the brilliant sunrise. Their movements were slower, their words gravelly, but both were bright-eyed and eager to speak of the night's wandering.

"She is glowing," said Drinian. "Even more beautiful than I remembered. And she has dwelt in that room for five months thus?"

"Yes," replied Caspian, "and with all grace. Not for a minute has she uttered a single word of regret."

"Amazing. Take no offence, Sire, but my men have oft complained of their women's gripes, especially in childbearing. Sickness, special hungers, tempers – and yet the Queen Lucy possess none. It is a marvellous thing."

"What, that she would show no ills?" said the king.

"Nay, Sire, but that she would conceal them," said Drinian.

His heart fell. Sickness? Of what kind? If she did indeed suffer such things, why would she not tell him so? He wondered, yet again, what she did with the long hours she spent on her own. Sleep, of course, but what other things? Reading, and perhaps drawing – that was all? And to be unwell in such boredom, with the pregnancy causing some new stir while he was away. Lucy had been telling him about the baby moving, and he wished, again, that he could be with her all the time. If he only could stay with her to keep careful record of her every symptom, every new delight. . . No matter how many times he wished it, there was no way that he could while away the hours with her, as he so longed to do. Caspian knew that their time was running out.

He hated it. Hated to think that soon – too soon! – he would truly return to his former life with nothing but ghostly memories to sustain him for the rest of his days. Lucy, Lucy. . . would be gone from his life as if she were never there. He could not bear to think it, but still it haunted him. And now, to learn that she suffered daily of ailments she would not have him know of – what love was that?

--

Caspian darted through the stone passageways with the barest glances for direction. The processions and farewells of the day had taken hours, but finally, the last wedding guests had departed from the Cair Paravel. And at last, the trouble that had occupied previous months was done with. He could breathe again, and more importantly, spend more time with Lucy.

When he entered the chamber, he found her stepping softly about the carpet. It was unusual; standing for long had become uncomfortable for her. When she saw him, pink flushed in her cheeks and she came towards him wearing the very smile that enticed him.

"Caspian!" she exclaimed in a breathy voice. "Drinian has only just left – "

"Drinian was here?" he asked. A strange feeling rose in his chest, hot and uncomfortable.

"Yes," said Lucy, "and he can visit longer because he's not so closely watched as you." He made to voice something, but she kept on, saying, "He told about the water – the colours reflected off the sunlight and the smell of the ocean. . . I'd nearly forgotten. Voyaging aboard the grand ships – with the wind in your hair –" And without warning, she threw herself into his arms and enveloped his mouth in hers.

He was lost in a sea of golden curls. Warmth spread through his body; he was never so complete as he was in moments such as these. She was everything, better the ocean or the wind, better than life – because she was life and vitality itself. Any thought, any resentment at all was gone from him.

Afterwards, he lay with his arm around her naked shoulder, listening to the sound of their breathing. It was hours – or minutes – later when he finally spoke what he wanted. It was a question she'd raised herself, when she spoke of Drinian's visit.

"Was there ever another, besides me?" he asked.

She looked puzzled, so he added, "Another that you loved."

"I've never cared for anyone as I do you, Caspian," she said slowly. "But there have been other men that I've loved."

"Who?" he asked.

"My brothers," she said.

"Who else?" he said. He could tell she didn't want to discuss it, but he needed to know.

Lucy sighed. He watched her belly rise and fall, and she said, "His name was Damon. He was Crown Prince of Terebinthia, and he came to court to ask my hand."

"Why?"

"It wasn't uncommon!" she exclaimed, blushing. They came all the time for me, though I didn't have half as many as Susan." She paused. "Damon was different."

"And?" he pressed.

"And I thought I loved him."

His brow narrowed. "Would you have married him?" he asked.

"I don't know," Lucy said. "Maybe. We never got the chance," she continued, and her voice sounded a little bitter. "We all were back in England before I even realised I loved him."

"So you did love him," said Caspian.

"I suppose," she answered. "It was another lifetime."

They quiet for a while after that. His hands were on her stomach, feeling the gentle kicks from the baby within.

"Terebinthia, you said?"

"Caspian, it doesn't matter!" she rebuked, half-laughing at him. Rolling on her side, she leaned into his shoulder and kissed his neck. "I love only you," she whispered.

"I'm sorry," he answered. "I dislike the thought of other men that you knew. To remember the others that have held you, kissed you, such as I have – I would challenge them one by one, and win you every time."

"Then I oughtn't tell you about that awful bandit kissing me once while I'd been captured."

He gave a reluctant chuckle, and kissed the top of her golden head.

* * *

**A/N: **I totally borrowed the line "Afterwards, he lay with his arm around her naked shoulder" from one of my favorite stories, Of Weddings and Coffee Shops by litromantic. I just loved it too much not to.

And who did I steal the idea of Drinian running away to sea from? I definitely did _not_ think of that on my own. Francie, was it you?


	7. Apprehension

* * *

PART FOUR - AFTER DUSK

* * *

7. Apprehension

It was one of those uncomfortable times where he needed to stay at her side for an entire evening. Time together was customary and unavoidable, but it was easy enough to feign affection toward her during the bustle of every day. Tonight, though, while they sat side-by-side in gilded chairs presiding over the celebratory feast, he felt sure that someone would notice something was amiss. They barely spoke, he never quite met her eyes, and the whispers and soft touches of lovers were conspicuously absent.

Caspian wondered if any of his guests could even guess at the turmoil battling inside him. So many emotions were constantly at war beneath the armour of propriety – shame in his actions, love for Lucy, guilt, anger at himself. All of these mysteriously vanished when he entered the secret room every night; love swelled and filled his chest in Lucy's presence, and fear for the imminent parting occupied his moments without her. With his counsellors he was busied with the duties required of him: it was only his wife that could summon the true feelings he could otherwise suppress.

She sat on his left, close enough for him to hear her breathe, and as every moment passed, it seemed to get louder. There was music and laughter and people talking, but all he could hear was the sound of her breathing. And with every breath she drew his pulse quickened and his own heartbeat pumped in his ears, double the rhythm of her breathing. His palms were sweaty and his whole left side felt hot – at least two servants had asked why he'd eaten so little, and what could he tell them? Being near his wife evoked a guilt that made his stomach turn? The traitorous king, the unfaithful husband, disobeying the mandate of the Lion Himself all for a love he couldn't bear to be apart from, that would vanish from this world in a month's time. _If you had felt yourself sufficient, it would have been proof that you were not. . ._

He was roused by the crowd, who were shouting and waving their wine-cups. Hastily, Caspian rose and raised his own drink, and delivered his address: "Dear friends, it is our very great pleasure to hail the Lord Chancellor's return from the court of Archenland, where he has served as High Councillor under King Nain since Summer last. He is welcomed most heartily back to Cair Paravel," said Caspian, and drank from his cup to great cheer. He spared the swiftest glance to his left. The Queen sipped serenely from her drink, and he looked quickly away.

--

By time the festivities had finally ended and the last drunken faun had found his way to bed, Caspian had become very agitated. He had been patient while the night crawled on unbearably slowly. Cair Paravel was the most gracious host to foreign dignitaries, but left to themselves, Narnians celebrated with unmatched fervour. The return of their Lord Chancellor was no small celebration; toasts and dances and jokes had lasted until the stars grew faint in the heavens. All this Caspian endured while playing his part – and with no obligatory dances with strange princesses and ladies of distant courts, there had been nothing to distract him from counting every second that slipped by away from Lucy. Now, _finally_, he could make the most of the time left to them – so little this morning! – and enjoy her calming company.

Caspian paused at the edge of the Great Hall. He could take to hallway to his left, the lengthy and winding path to his destination, or he could cross through the Hall to save a good amount of time from his route. He shifted the parcel on his back and considered it. He had so little time with Lucy left to him already, especially tonight, and did not every second count? And while he had always avoided the main parts of the castle in the past, no soul could still be awake after such a night. He hesitated, and thinking of the ever-valiant Lucy, crossed into the Great Hall.

He was three-quarters of the way through when he met the guard.

Tirinus was a royal guard posted – as Caspian now remembered – at the southern entrance to the throne room, directly from the Great Hall. The centaur had come forward the sound of Caspian's footsteps, and now stared down at the king with unblinking eyes.

"Forgive me, your Majesty. Few come through here at such an hour," he said, giving a noble incline of his head.

"Yes. . . well. . ." Caspian muttered, groping for words. He was unable to find any. His heart had dropped into his stomach and Caspian was keenly aware of the suspicion of his companion. The parcel slung on his shoulder felt extremely conspicuous, and even in the little light he could see Tirinus' eyes dwelling on it. Where would the king of Narnia take such a package. . ?

"I went. . . I'm going. . ." Caspian tried again, but the powers of speech had deserted him. The lantern hinge swung in his sweaty palm, and the squeak carried clearly across the hall. Silence billowed around them. Caspian desperately tried to think of something to say, but his heart flurried in a nervous panic and his mouth had gone dry. He could hear his whole kingdom crumbling around him. This was the end, it had come earlier than expected, and Narnia would fall. . . But through the darkness came a single candle and slipper-shod footsteps, and the face of his beloved friend appeared.

"King Caspian. Tirinus," Doctor Cornelius said, gesturing with the candle in his one hand and a nightcap in the other. "What brings. . ." he began, but got no further, for he caught Caspian's eye and went silent. But the royal guard was not so easily led away.

"The king was about to inform me, Lord Chancellor," he said, as if the question had been fully formed.

Caspian saw the Doctor's eyes glance briefly toward his parcel. Seeming to understand the situation perfectly, Doctor Cornelius spoke. "Why, the King was fetching a small meal, for we two shall be doing a little astronomy, observing the morning sky. Yes, my King?" said the Doctor smoothly.

"Yes," said Caspian hurriedly.

After the smallest pause, Tirinus bowed again, and said slowly, "Then I shall keep you no longer." Doctor Cornelius bowed also, and led Caspian from the hall. They went in silence for a few minutes, until – well out of earshot of the Great Hall – the Doctor stopped and spoke.

"Now, my King, come into this closet and tell me all," he whispered, gesturing through a door. "I trust you completely, yet I feel that something is afoot."

The little room was quiet and completely dark. Caspian couldn't see anything, but he still spoke his words to the floor. He knew no matter the story and conditions, his mentor would defend him, but Caspian was reluctant to admit the situation to his wise friend.

"The Horn? It worked as a summons? But such an operation ought. . ." muttered Doctor Cornelius, almost before Caspian had finished. "And others have seen future of Narnia? Why, time itself should remedy any inconsistencies. . ." Then the Doctor seemed to rouse himself. "And what does her Majesty think of this secret, my King? She has bound herself to silence? Promised to raise the child?"

Caspian shuffled his feet, unwilling to confirm his answer. "I. . ."

"Heaven and earth!" exclaimed the Doctor. "Do you mean the Queen has no knowledge of Lucy's presence?"

Caspian didn't quite know what to say. He felt like a youth again, admonished for shirking some responsibility.

"Had you any plans for informing her? Surely you realised she would enquire to the source of your newborn son."

"Doctor, I – " he started.

"No, no, never mind. We shall think of something. I will speak with her, explain, or – "

"Magic?" asked Caspian, and his conscience squirmed.

"Perhaps. I should not like it, but secrets of the state – a king's lady – scandal. . . We must do what is necessary to keep Narnia intact. But leave that for another time; let us away now."

"To where?"

Doctor Cornelius sighed. "To this chamber of yours, my King. If I'm to be of any aid, we must make haste. Dawn is nearing."

--

It was a short visit, for Lucy tired easily these days. She put up a great show of cheeriness and smiles, and gave no indication that she was displeased at the surprise guest. As when Drinian had first come to see her, Lucy was shy and embarrassed at her state – she had grown quite large – but in all things she displayed a queen's grace. Even so, Caspian could not help feeling that he was exhibiting to the whole court, which was neither gentlemanly nor kind of him. He was careful to observe her expression when she recounted the months thus far to Doctor Cornelius. To his relief, no shadows passed over her face; she laughed softly and waved away her troubles in conversation.

When twilight beckoned and Caspian and Doctor Cornelius made their leave, the pair halted in dark passageway outside the chamber. Before they left the place, the Doctor answered Caspian's unspoken plea for advice.

"I am no physician, your Majesty. I am a master of knowledge, not medicine," said Doctor Cornelius.

Caspian had his reply ready. "Yet you are my friend in whom I trust, a learned man whose counsel I seek in every important matter, especially one as this. Please," he implored, "there is no one else I could ask, even if I wished it."

The Doctor gave another heavy sigh. "I shall offer you all the aid I can." He paused, then began, "She appears very well cared for, my King, and you are lucky she suffers from no fear of small spaces. I do wish that Queen Lucy might have stayed somewhere else – there is something in sunlight, your Majesty, which is good for the health – though I suppose it can't be helped. She certainly must not be moved in her current condition. . ."

--

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning her head to show him. "I had a bit of trouble at the back."

Caspian considered it. Her golden locks were shorter, shorter than when she'd first arrived – almost to her shoulders – and the fringe at the front was back. She was beautiful, of course, but mostly he was disheartened: yet another reminder that their time was running out.

"I know it's a bit short," she said, almost as if she'd read his thoughts, "but I thought I'd give it some time to grow out to the old way."

"You look different," he responded evasively. "More than when you first got here."

"Caspian, dear, you must have thought I would cut it. I couldn't well return with hair as long as that. . ." Her eyes searched him knowingly.

A silent moment passed between them. Caspian cleared his throat and asked, "And what I am to do with this?" He raised the small bowl of golden cuttings.

She smiled. "It's for the birds, silly. Nest materials. I used to set it out earlier in Spring, but it shouldn't be quite too late now. There are always last-minute nesters."

"I see." He set the bowl down, and reached across to run his fingers through her hair. It wasn't so bad, he thought, kissing her shoulder. Under his arm, she gave a comfortable sigh.

--

_She was standing in a forest clearing somewhere in eastern Narnia. It was snowing – no, she was wearing a veil. When she pulled it off, she saw that it was a short white one instead of the longer Narnian styles. Looking down, Lucy realised she was dressed in an English wedding dress._

_The earth shook under her bare feet, and without knowing why, she began to run. The ground shuddered in waves of quaking – she tripped and lost the veil somewhere in the trees behind her. Pushing her way through the leaves, she made it out into a field and glimpsed what her feet were carrying her to._

_The Hill of the Stone Table was rising up on the horizon. When she came upon it, she saw that the Table had already been cracked in two. Then her eyes fell on the body of Aslan. He was scarred and mangled, muzzled, and bound tightly. She looked wildly around her, but no one came to her aid. The sun was already high in the sky – it was noon, day had come – the Deep Magic had failed._

_Her eyes were spilling over with tears, but Lucy bravely stepped forward, hand outstretched. She hesitated over where his mane should have been, but in the end she touched him. He was cold. She gave a gasp of pain and jumped back, head reeling. Aslan, Aslan – dead? No! It couldn't be! She fell forward on her knees and wept bitterly, wishing for Peter and Edmund and Susan. She heard the sound of birds and looked up. Two vultures were circling high above her. The earth gave another almighty tremor, and deeper fissures appeared in the stone._

_Lucy did not want to leave Aslan's body, but she could not bear to stay. Where was everyone? Didn't they know that the Lion had fallen? Her stomach turned. She had to tell someone! Without pretence she got to her feet and began to run as she never had before in her life. It didn't matter the direction or distance, she just had to keep running, to find someone. Aslan was dead. . . Narnia would surely perish._

_She was in another wooded area, still running her hardest. She trod over sharp stones and bramble that cut her feet, but she did not slacken her pace. Without warning, she slammed into something warm and solid. It was Caspian. He was standing alone in the trees, wearing common clothes but adorned in his golden crown._

"_Caspian!_"_ she cried hysterically. _"_Aslan is dead, back there at the Stone Table. . ._"_ She was sobbing into his chest._

_He didn't answer at first. With his hands, he gently tilted her face so she could see into his eyes._

"_Shh,_"_ he whispered calmingly. _"_Perhaps it was meant to be._"_ Before she could reply, he pressed his lips on hers in a rough, lustful kiss. She was caught up a passionate storm that ran though her blood and made her heart race. Caspian's mouth was on hers like his life depended on her, as she knew it did. She fell headlong into him, feeling his hands slide up her back and his hair between her fingers. She pulled away a fraction to smile into his eyes, but when she looked up at him she shrieked and tore herself from his arms. His face was wrinkled and sunken, his hair grey. Even as she watched in horror, his hair – and the beard newly appeared – turned pure white; the wrinkles deepened and cataracts covered his eyes. She screamed, and Caspian reached out blindly, calling her name in a weak voice. He staggered and fell sideways. Lucy dropped to the ground beside him, taking his head in her lap._

_He was dying, she could feel it. His gasps were irregular and his heart was beating only faintly. She reached in vain for the cordial on her hip, but her fingers met only empty air._

"_Lucy,_"_ he murmured with his last breath._

_She screamed, an eternal unearthly cry made the birds in the trees take to the sky. She could not stop her voice from piercing the cold air. She brought her hands to her face and clawed her nails at her skin until she drew blood. The ground beneath her lurched forward. Aslan was dead, Caspian was dead. . . and she was alone._

--

He was awake with his arm around her sleeping form. She had been so tired that he'd let her sleep, and now he was alone with his thoughts in the candlelight.

He ran across her stomach, feeling the swollen belly beneath the fabric of her nightdress, thinking again of the little time left to them. How he wished it had been different! With everything else going on, Caspian barely had time to ponder what it would mean to be a father. He had no memories of his own parents, after all. Lucy would be such a wonderful mother, he was sure, but she would be gone. . .

She was mumbling in her sleep. At first, he found it endearing and watched her with a small smile on his face, but as her tone became more and more distressed Caspian started to feel concerned. She let out a pitiful whimper and began to move around, turning her head back and forth. He shook her shoulders gently but she did not stir. Just when was contemplating fetching water, she gave a gasp and her eyes snapped open. "Oh, oh, oh!" she cried, and her shoulders shook as raised herself to a sitting position. She was sobbing uncontrollably, tears leaking through the fingers at her face.

Caspian was bewildered. She had been fine before she fell asleep, when they were talking! He felt very afraid; the rattling breaths she drew sounded horrid, and he feared also for the child sleeping in her womb. He embraced her tightly and rocked back and forth, whispering comforting words. They stayed so for a very long time, until her cries had quieted.

"What. . . happened?" he said, unsure of what her reaction might be.

"It was. . ." she hiccoughed. "Another dream. . ."

Another dream? He paused, and realisation began to come over him. "Lucy," he said sharply, "have there been other dreams besides this one and the last?"

She sniffled. "Yes," she admitted.

"All this time? Why haven't you told me?"

"You have enough to worry about," said she. Worry? _Worry_? He felt sickened with himself. Why had he never considered the possibility of other dreams?

"They are disturbing to even watch," he said seriously. "What are they about?"

She was quiet. With short hair framing her face, she looked alarmingly younger. Almost like the girl she had once – twice – been.

"Lucy, please," he implored.

She closed her eyes. "They are of pain. Destruction. Death," she said. "Narnia in peril."

Caspian took a slow, deep breath. Such dreams were merely that: dreams. Right? There was no chance that they could be. . . prophetic? And even if he believed them to be, nothing could make him reveal his thoughts to Lucy and upset her more.

"They are only dreams; they'll pass in time. Have you told the Doctor of them?"

"No."

"I will have him come tomorrow," he said. "Perhaps he can prescribe some tonic to ease your slumber. But I should leave now – it will probably be light soon. . ."

"Don't go," she said, and he looked at her in surprise. It was the first time she had ever asked him to stay longer. Usually she kissed him goodbye, resigned that he must leave her until the next night. "Stay," said Lucy, "please, at least until I fall asleep. . ."

With a jolt, he realised how meek and small her voice sounded. Had she been afraid to sleep on her own all this time? How could he be so selfish to not consider, never think of the fright of sleeping alone in this dark room, inviting nightmares to come? He thought back. . . the dream from months ago. . . he must have come in the aftermath, when she was calming down. The hysterics, he thought, he had so cordially missed.

He nodded. Caspian eased her back into the cushions and settled himself down beside her. As he waited for her breathing to become slow and rhythmic, the thought came to him that Lucy was not the only woman for whom he waited sleep to claim. Unlike his impatience to escape his own bed, however, her side he wished to never leave.

* * *

**A/N: **Reviews are welcome. I'd love some feedback on a chapter that took a ridiculously long amount of time and work, but I ended up not liking that much. I kind of feel like it lacks transition. Also, for reference, there's at least one direct quote from Prince Caspian here, and I borrowed the idea of cutting hair for bird nests from Jerry Spinelli's awesome book, Stargirl. It seemed very Lucy-like.


	8. Consecration

8. Consecration

The seconds crawled by at an agonizing pace.

Against his will, Caspian turned and looked through the window of his study. He grit his teeth. The sky was a clear and lovely blue – as it should be, for he had last looked not two minutes ago. All the same, he could not help his frustration. Time was passing extremely slowly. And today, of all days, he was allowed some impatience.

He couldn't count how many times during this unbearable day he had cursed that he could be at her side. For today, while he had gone about his business in Cair, Lucy had lain in that dark room bearing the pains of early child labour.

She had announced it without preamble, in the early hours of the morning: "Tonight, Caspian," and he had known her meaning immediately. It was a resigned statement, laden with inevitability; he had wondered at her detached tone, until he looked and saw the fear in her blue eyes.

And tonight it was. Everything was to begin the moment the sun had set, which, it seemed, would take an eternity.

For now, Caspian stood waiting, dressed in the common clothes Drinian had procured for him. He felt most unlike himself. He fidgeted in the coarse wool, and touched the sides of his face. Smooth, though the looking glass told otherwise. Doctor Cornelius had cast a glamour upon him; he appeared older and rougher, with a square face and dark, scraggly hair and a beard to match.

The absence of the sword hanging from his left side made him feel unbalanced. True to their disguise, he had no weapon visible – not even the smallest dagger – that might give away his station. If they were to fall to attack, unlikely as it may be, the only method of defence would be the slim knife concealed in his boot. And it would probably take most of the fight to undo the laces and uncover the thing.

He was nervous, more nervous than he'd ever been in his life – and there was nothing worse for a nervous man than waiting. Yet there he was, counting every second that went past, willing the sky to darker faster that he might leave his chambers at last. The anxiety was nearly driving him mad.

Caspian leaned and checked the sky again – resolutely blue, although perhaps a shade darker than last time. He took a deep breath, trying to calm the butterflies in his stomach How were they going to pull this off? He trusted his friends entirely, but he felt sure something would go wrong. Someone would see them, or there could be complications. He tried not to remember that some women died in childbirth.

"Don't be nervous," Drinian had said. "Everything will happen too quickly for trouble, and with that cordial, she'll be well soon after. Have faith, your Majesty. Many women have laboured similarly."

The words offered little comfort. His aunt had given birth with the royal physician, two midwives, and a dozen attendants present, in the company of her mother and sisters. Lucy would labour alone and in isolation. Though she never said so, Caspian was well aware that she missed her family greatly. He wished he could wind the horn again and summon the rest of the Pevensies, but it was no good. Whatever help they may receive from others, the reality was that they were entirely alone.

He checked the window again. Still light, but lilac instead of pale blue.

It was a conflicting feeling, to wish for evening to arrive faster – while at the same time, pray that time might pass slowly tonight. He wanted to be with her, he didn't want her to leave. . . but Aslan had made it clear that Lucy would not remain after she gave birth.

He swallowed. Tonight, his son would be born. If all went well.

"You need not worry the hour," Doctor Cornelius told him, and there had been a strange sadness in his eyes. "If the Queen Lucy guesses rightly, Aslan should arrive as tomorrow ends, sunset or before. I shall find a way to excuse your absence until then."

Tonight he would become a father. And tomorrow, Lucy would be gone forever.

_Forever_.

Caspian checked the window again – this time, the sky was a dusky purple. He set off without any further ado.

--

He pressed the stone that opened the passage.

Lucy cowered against the wall, wide-eyed and frightened-looking. She was wearing the rough-cut dress she had sewn for herself. A headscarf covered her golden hair, hiding its length – much shorter than the women of Narnia – from sight. She clutched her heavy belly to her. "Caspian?" she asked tentatively.

He touched his face again, and remembered the glamour. "It's me," he told her. Relief spread over her features.

"Are you ready?"

She nodded. He offered his arm and pulled her to her feet; she winced, but made no complaint. They went out of the room and into the hallway. It was more anti-climatic than Caspian had thought: They strode out as if they had done so a thousand times, but it was the first time Lucy had left the chamber for ten months and more.

Cair Paravel was quiet and dark. A sleeping charm, by the grace of Doctor Cornelius, had been cast over the entire castle: they could move through the halls freely. If not for her condition, Caspian was sure that Lucy would have wanted to explore – the restored Cair was certainly different from the one she had known during the Golden Age – but as it was, they moved quickly through the corridors.

They passed by several dozing guards at the doors that led outside. Caspian felt a prick of guilt in his conscience, but he brushed it aside. There was much more at stake than a little harmless magic. . . The irony struck him as soon as he had thought it.

They paused at the head of the beach. Lucy took a breath of fresh salty air, and a look of calm came into her face. Then abruptly, she gave a small gasp and squeezed his hand tightly. He cast her a worried glance, but her eyes were on the horizon. A shallop, the small boat that Drinian had arranged for them, was tied at the end of the shortest dock.

--

The twilight was fading fast and night fell before they had travelled very far. But overhead, the full moon and twinkling summer stars were scattered across the sky, so they could still see the way. It felt very strange to Caspian, almost surreal. Moonlight shone luminous silver on the water, and it made him think of many similar nights on the Dawn Treader. It was hard to believe that they would shortly be parted forever, or remember the terrible danger if anyone were to discover them.

He wondered if Lucy had the same things on her mind, but her expression was unreadable. Whatever her thoughts, they kept her preoccupied. She stayed quiet for a time, and Caspian was glad for the slapping sound of the oars and the distant waves on the shore. They travelled northwest up the coast, away from Cair Paravel, towards the unpopulated woods in northern Narnia.

Presently she said, "We need our names."

"Yes. Who shall I be?" he asked.

"Arthur," she answered decisively. "Peter's middle name."

"And what name for you?"

Lucy grimaced a little – from the pains or subject of conversation, he did not know. After a moment she said, "I don't know. Choose it for me?"

"I shouldn't know which to pick. I like your name, Lucy; I'd rather not call you another."

She was grimacing again, with her eyes shut tight. "I must have one – choose it," she said shortly.

Caspian sighed. "Edith," he said finally. "The name of my old nurse. It was she, after all, from whom I learned your name and all your stories."

"Edith," said Lucy, smiling at him in spite of her pained expression. "I like it."

He returned the smile, but only half-heartedly. In his mind he was travelling back through the years, to his youth and childhood. He remembered the tales of Peter and Susan and Edmund and Lucy his beloved Nurse had told him. How could he have known that he would end up a part of the story himself?

Caspian rowed in silence for over an hour after that. They did not speak, nor was he inclined to make conversation. Thoughts of the past few months swirled around in his mind; regret, remorse, and the longing for more time. As he pulled the oars back and forth, he thought of meeting her for the first time, or saying goodbye on the Dawn Treader, or when he had called her all those months ago.

Suddenly he became aware of very heavy breathing. Lucy was heaving great, dry gasps over the side of the boat.

"Lucy, Lucy – are you all right?" he asked, halting the oars. It was difficult to keep the panic out of his voice.

"No – " she panted, moving her arm in some vague gesture of direction. "Keep rowing. . . It's nearly time."

He obeyed promptly, more worried than ever. Lucy's face was very pale and her hands were shaking. Caspian very much wanted to forget the rowing and just hold her, but he knew he mustn't. Instead he shifted his weight to make up for her new arrangement, and on they went. The best he could do was cast concerned looks at the back of her golden head.

She was only sick once. After that, she sat braced against his legs instead of across from him. She said she felt better like that, and though he didn't say it aloud, he was also comforted by her warm body on his knees. There was always something soothing about her touch – and anyway, best to make the most of the little time left to them. After all, in a few hours' time he'd never feel her touch again for as long as he lived.

--

Lucy let out a great breath. He could hear fright in her voice when she said, "Here, Caspian. I can't wait much longer."

He pulled them into shore – it was mostly large rocks and a little coarse sand – and Lucy climbed out on her own, taking the single lantern they had carried on the boat. She was moving slowly and awkwardly, and breathing very deeply. Once she was safe on the bank, he dragged the shallop high onto the rocks, and tied it securely around a tree trunk.

With their pack around his shoulders, he moved to help her up. Lucy leaned heavily on him and they began the journey into the mainland.

It was rocky at first. But after a while the ground levelled out into soft grass and downy turf, and the going became lighter. It was clear and warm and smelled of wildflowers: a beautiful Narnian night. Even through her pain, Caspian knew Lucy was drinking it in. Sometimes, between the harsh breaths that grew closer and closer together, he heard her give a delicious sigh.

The stopped in the middle of a small clearing, notable only for its insignificance; there were a thousand similar spots all over the woods of Narnia. He cast her an inquiring glance, and Lucy nodded.

"Help!" he cried, his voice carrying easily through the woods. "Help, please! My wife labours alone and in pain – "

A cool breeze, and three nymphs of the forest stood before him; two Dryads and a Naiad.

"How may we be of aid, sir?" said the Naiad, curtseying a little.

Caspian dropped his gaze and spoke to his feet, remembering to forgo the habits and posture of his situation.

"Please," he said, speaking in the clipped tones of those from Northern Narnia. "I am a humble farmer, and my wife carries our child who has come before the time. We have travelled all day to reach the village of my mother-in-law, but our horse was injured and we can't make any further on foot. Please, is there no inn or house nearby?"

"None, sir," said one of the Dryads, as Caspian knew she would answer.

"Then I beg your assistance, that she may deliver in the company of womenfolk," he finished, the well-rehearsed words falling easily from his lips.

"We three can care for her," said the Naiad.

"I – " began Caspian, but he didn't get any further. At his arm, Lucy was heaving dry sobs – she looked about to faint, and the taller of the Dryads rushed to her other side.

--

Lucy lay on a blanket they had brought with them, tucked over a bed of heather to provide some comfort. Her pains came in waves, stronger and closer together as the time passed.

Caspian was pacing the ground behind her. He felt restless and entirely helpless, and wished desperately that everything could have gone differently, but there had been no other option. While Lucy had some knowledge of childbirth, neither he nor Drinian nor Doctor Cornelius had any experience with the subject. Even if they had, it would have been quite improper for her to labour in the company of three men. She certainly couldn't give birth alone, and they certainly couldn't tell another soul the whole story. And so they had devised their plan, to seek out women far from Cair that could deliver her.

Lucy groaned and gasped, and it was more frustrating than anything.

He kicked a tree root in agitation and the stumpy Dryad chuckled. "It is why fathers are often away from labouring women. They cannot see those they love in such distress."

Caspian felt his cheeks grow warm. He rather thought they were poking fun at their situation; did she think him unaware that men, excepting doctors, traditionally waited far from the birthing room? Then he realised they were talking to distract Lucy from the pain of the ordeal.

"This is your first, yes, my dear?" asked the Naiad.

She nodded frantically.

"Fear not," came the reply. "Aslan blesses every birthing."

Lucy blanched, but it went unnoticed by the others. All three had fixed their gaze skyward, at the words of the willowy Dryad: "The full moon," she said, gesturing upwards. "It is holy for childbirth." No sooner had she spoken did Lucy cry out loudly; he fell to her side, and the women bustled around him, fretting and fussing.

"Shh, daughter Edith," said Naiad in her soothing voice. "Your labour is near the end, and you shall soon know motherhood."

She gave a terrified sob. Caspian felt his heart wrench – this was truly the worst thing he ever had to endure. Lucy lay on the ground in the throes of terrible pain, the source of which rested on his head. She whimpered pitifully and his shoulders cringed of their own accord. It was horrible. Valiant, brave, capable Lucy – he'd never heard her scream until this night. Really, he had never actually seen her fear anything. He could hardly stand to listen to such sounds – how any man of honour could, he didn't know.

When the pains began in earnest, Caspian wanted to be sick himself. He wanted to run, he wanted to hold her, he wanted to swing his sword at any faceless enemy. Blood was pumping through his veins, and his skin was crawling with an itch to do something. . . but he couldn't. He could only stay beside her and offer comfort whatever he could. Which was nothing, really.

During the worst of it, she grasped his hand tighter than anything, letting out an awful, high-pitched scream. "Arthur," she cried, tears from the effort pouring down her cheeks. "Forgive me, please forgive me. . ."

"Don't worry, L – er – Edith," he said awkwardly. Her face was pink and screwed up in exertion. "You are – you're wonderful. Without you. . . I cannot live without you. I love –"

But his words were interrupted by the wail of an infant.

He was speechless. Up until this moment, fatherhood had seemed a distant conclusion to Lucy's inevitable departure. But now that his son was real and breathing before him, he could hardly believe it. It was the queerest thing to gaze down his own child, when Caspian barely felt older than a child himself.

The Naiad carefully washed the baby and placed him in Lucy's waiting arms.

In the early twilight, he could see the weary faces of the forest-women, smiling at the beautiful child rewarded of their night's work. Lucy's features were glowing with a happiness he had never seen, even when they had been together on the Dawn Treader. She did not speak, but wept, and tears sprang in his own eyes.

--

"May I speak with you?" Caspian asked.

They went with him a short distance from where Lucy rested. He withdrew a small purse from his pocket and upturned it, pouring a few silver Trees into his palm.

"Please," he said, holding out the coins, "for our gratitude."

"Sir," said they all, "help is given freely to any in these woods, and we can take no payment from a man of such means." The women smiled their gentle smiles, and Caspian felt simultaneous pride in his good citizens, and guilt for deceiving them. He conceded.

"Then I thank you most generously," he said, and made them a low bow. There was a soft breeze and the three women went away.

He watched until they were gone before returning to Lucy's side. "Oh, Rilian," she breathed, giving voice to his name for the first time. "May Aslan keep you ever safe between his paws."

Caspian knelt and pulled the cordial from the depths of the pack. Lucy eyed him shrewdly. Though she did not speak, her look had a clear meaning, reminding him of her words from days earlier: _Only one is necessary_.

He concentrated on undoing the stopper, keeping his eyes away from her gaze. Caspian was sure she'd be able to spot his intentions at once if he looked at her. When the bottle was opened, the familiar, delicious smell swam into the air. Lucy closed her eyes and Rilian, who had been fussing, quieted. Perfect. His hand hovered over her parted lips, and he poured five drops into her mouth.

She knew immediately. Lucy's eyes snapped open and she stared at him, half-confused, half-guilty. But she said not a word.

Caspian moved the bottle towards Rilian, and Lucy looked at him hard. With his first finger, he pulled the tiny chin down a little and tipped a single drop into his son's mouth. Then he corked the bottle again.

He inhaled deeply. Whether it was the cordial's calming aroma or the relief that Lucy's ills were on the mend, Caspian felt strengthened and renewed, ready to face the final hours.

He settled behind Lucy and gently, eased her up into a sitting position. He put his arms around her, meaning to pull them both to their feet – but Caspian found he couldn't move. He knew they needed to be off, and that very little morning was left to them, but he couldn't summon the will to budge an inch. He stayed there much longer than was wise, braced against her warm body, staring down at the tiny baby that had come of sin and secrets, magic, and their love.

Many moments later, Caspian became aware of a sparrow on the ground beside him, hopping about the forest floor in a most anxious manner. It turned about and fixed him with a hard golden eye, before taking flight into the trees.

Though the bird had done nothing, Caspian felt chastised all the same. He roused himself and kissed her cheek, as it to say, _We must be leaving_.

"Caspian. . ." she murmured, her voice weak. "I can't walk. . ."

"Shh," he whispered. He rose, and began gathering their things. Last to go were the blankets she rested upon; he tugged them from beneath her and packed them in the satchel, and secured it on his back. Bending even lower, her scooped her up in his arms and lifted her gently. He rose slowly to his feet, and began to walk out of the clearing.

Caspian made his way from the forest very cautiously, his embrace stiff and unbending. It had occurred to him that he was carrying the most precious cargo he would ever in his life: The mother of his son and their child. He stepped so softly that after a while, Rilian was asleep.

The tide was coming in when they reached the beach, the boat floating in the waves that lapped up on the rocks. Gently, he set Lucy down in bows – soaking himself past his boot-tops – and got in himself. Caspian cut the rope that tethered them to land and took the oars. They rowed south, against the tide, but Caspian relished in the physical labour. It was relief, almost, to bring things down to such a simple task as rowing. His mind could be blissfully blank, concentration focused only moving the oars forward and back.

The chore of rowing, however, did not distract him from the passing time. They had been rowing for a long while, and he was worried – the Doctor's charms would last only until sunrise, and the sky was lighting further every minute.

The rising sun broke over the waves and the air was filled with yellow sunlight. Caspian looked across at Lucy, and suppressed a gasp. Had he forgotten her beauty until now? Her radiance seemed magnified; or else, he had overlooked it in the darkness before. A few golden curls, pulled loose from the headscarf, hung about her face. Her lips were rounded, whispering comfort to Rilian, who was troubled by the boat's rocking.

Lucy met his gaze with shining eyes. They were clear and very pale blue in the morning light. Bent over the baby, she wore such a look of awe and wonder on her face that Caspian felt his heart swell. He knew exactly how she felt – that they could have produced such a tiny, perfect creature.

The towers of Cair Paravel rose in the distance, large and grand, and so very separate from the identity he had borrowed for the night. He started, remembering the implication of daybreak. Lucy stretched her hand and stroked his cheek softly, smiling, and her eyes told him the answer: the glamour had vanished from his face. He tightened his shoulders and redoubled the rowing speed.

The boat bumped the dock and Caspian heaved out, securing the shallop and holding his arms out to take Rilian. Lucy clamoured from her seat on her own, limbs shaking, but when she stood her legs were quite steady. She held Rilian tightly to her breast, as if that small moment of transfer had lasted a lifetime.

As speedily as they could manage, Caspian and Lucy left the beach and climbed the sloping hills to Cair. The sleeping spell was ended; they could not use the main entrances to the castle. Caspian's heart was racing – they had nearly made it, but this last leg of the journey was also the most dangerous. He tried not to think what would happen if someone were to discover the king of Narnia, dressed in rags, with a strange woman and her newborn child.

They went around the southern walls, toward the stables, where the secret entrance was concealed. By the main doors, Caspian heard voices; easy morning chatting, the drone and bustle of stable workers – but today the sound cut through the air like enemies' arrows. He dropped to the ground behind low bushes, and Lucy crouched beside him.

The sound of footsteps and talking drew quite near. Fear pulsed in his empty stomach – he had not eaten since last night – and infected the rest of his body. They were supposed to have returned before now! Instead, time had necessitated this awful risk in which they must sneak back into his own castle, without the aid of magic or disguise, or the cover of darkness.

"I think we're all right," he whispered. Lucy tilted her head, the valiant gleam in her eyes her only response. They went out from behind the bushes and ran into the stables doubled over, in case a horse was looking over his stall. Rilian stayed mercifully quiet hidden beneath Lucy's cloak.

Lucy led him to the back rooms where haystacks were kept. She went immediately to the farthest wall, and pushed a nondescript stone. Nothing happened.

He heard distant voices from the front of the stables, and Rilian fussed a little. Panic flooded his body. What was wrong?

Lucy's cool voice cut through the confusion. "No, Caspian," she said. "It's not like the other one. You've got to _push_."

The voices came louder, but still unseen. Caspian could feel his heart racing. He placed his hands on the indistinctive stretch of wall she indicated. Exhausted from the night and sore from rowing, he summoned every ounce of strength he had left and felt the wall give. It moved forward, as if swinging from extremely rusty hinges. Lucy darted into the gap. He followed, and pushed the door back into place, and the familiar darkness swallowed them up once more.

Lucy had not made a sound. But in the past few months he had come to know her as he had not another person; he knew instinctively that she was upset. Blindly, he reached into the darkness and wiped the tears from her face. Caspian pulled her into his arms, and wished with all his heart that he could never let her go.

* * *

**A/N:** Whew! This one took a ton of research. . . and a lot of it was not pretty. Some of you might be wondering why I didn't include Lucy's water breaking – I checked it, and discovered that the water usually breaks during labor, especially for new mothers. Turns out it only happens prior to the onset of labor about thirteen percent of the time.


	9. Parting

**A/N:** Wow, I can't believe that I'm finally posting the last chapter, and it's been over a year since I started this story. I feel like I've grown up with TCotH; reading the earlier chapters, I think that my writing style has changed (and hopefully matured) quite a bit. However, as this chapter was written immediately after Chapter 3, it's kind of a throwback to my earlier work. And for reference, there's a quote from Caspian's Queen in here.

* * *

PART FIVE - BEYOND THE DAWN

* * *

9. Parting

It was completely dark except for a single candle. They lay side by side, foreheads touching, hands clasped, waiting, and trying to keep sleep from coming over them. His eyelids were heavy, and he was achingly tired, but he forced himself to remain awake. To savour their last moments together.

"Caspian," whispered Lucy. "Will you love me always?"

Something tightened in his chest, and he squeezed his fingers in hers.

"Always," he whispered back.

After a long moment, where he'd almost thought she had fallen asleep, she spoke very, very softly.

"If – if you wanted, after I've gone – " said Lucy, barely audibly, " – if you decided to forget me, and be with – with your wife, it. . . it would be all right." She bit her lower lip and looked away from him.

Even through the tumult of feelings running through him, he recognized the sacrifice the words cost her. Lucy had given him everything: her love, her body; she had borne a child for him and yet she offered even her very memory – that he may forget her, to claim his own life back again. Selfless, pure, generous Lucy. . . How could she even believe he might want that?

"I should love you always, whether I am alive or dead in this world or any other. And even if _you_ should choose to forget _me_, you will be present in my every thought. I shall desire no other love my life long."

Lucy smiled a little. "Good, because I think I should love you always even if I didn't want it." She brought his hand to her mouth and kissed it once. The simple action spoke a thousand words and more; and a terrible feeling rose in his chest, indescribable, and worse than he'd ever imagined.

Weariness finally triumphed and Caspian watched the lashes cover her blue eyes for the last time. There, beside this woman and their golden child, his heart broke and he wept enough tears for a lifetime.

--

_They were standing on the crest of one of the high, sloping hills at the Southern border of Narnia. It was early autumn, and they were watching the sun go down in a blazing orange-yellow that made the clouds glow silver._

_He had his arm around her waist, and his other hand was twining fingers with hers. Lucy leaned back into his chest and breathed in the sweet smell of lingering summer. A light wind was blowing, ruffling her hair and the knee-high yellow grass. A few feet away, the baby sat nestled in the brush, gurgling and laughing, reaching out to grab the swaying stalks._

_She turned her head and looked up into Caspian's eyes. They held the same peace and serenity she could feel. There was a pure and simple love that filled her, like the sunset itself was inside her – a bounding light that warmed and shone all through her, spilling out in rays onto those she loved._

_Her feet were firm on the earth and she could feel Caspian's steady heartbeat behind her. While she gazed out onto her country below, a sense of deepest contentment came over her. She felt like she take all of Narnia into her heart. Though she could not see Him, she knew that Aslan was near._

--

Both Lucy and Rilian were sleeping. As tired as he was, Caspian could not bring himself to close his eyes. Soon she would be gone forever. . . He couldn't take his eyes from her, this woman that he loved so dearly, who would soon vanish like smoke in the wind. He studied her sleeping form, memorizing every freckle and eyelash, every curl on head. He inscribed her features into his mind, understanding that he would never see her again as long as he lived.

She stirred a little, and woke with a soft gasp. Caspian gripped his arm around her more tightly, and said, "Another dream?"

She nodded. "Bad?" he asked.

"No," she breathed. She smiled and took his hand. "It was wonderful."

--

They were sitting together in silence when he arrived that evening. She was holding Rilian, Caspian was holding her. Aslan appeared in a sudden brilliance, flooding the dim chamber with light. His great eyes were sad and he had Susan's horn clutched in his mouth.

He placed the horn at his forefeet and said, "It is time."

Lucy was trembling. She did not make a sound, but she was crying harder than he had ever seen. Bending her head, she kissed the tiny baby a thousand times. Big teardrops splashed down her face and stained Rilian's blankets. The Lion waited in stillness.

Finally, shaking, she laid their son in his outstretched arms. Caspian could feel her heartache so intensely; he wanted so desperately to _do _something. She kissed his cheek softly and turned away. Caspian found himself unable to speak; the time had come at last, but he could not say goodbye.

Aslan came forward and touched his pink tongue to Rilian's forehead. He spoke heavily, "It is done. When you meet again, it will be in my country." He picked the up the horn in his mouth again, and stood close to Lucy. Caspian had one glimpse of the pair of them: the huge lion that filled nearly all the chamber's space, and Lucy, dressed in the wrinkled skirt and sweater she had first arrived in. Then light shone brighter around them for an instant, and –

They were gone. Caspian stood there in the semidarkness, holding this child with Lucy's golden hair and her blue eyes. And even though they had known from that first morning that this moment would come, now that it had he felt more alone than ever.

The infant began to cry, whining for his mother's breast. Caspian had no idea what do. He felt so lost he could barely bring down one foot in front of the other, but he managed to make his way to the Queen's chambers. He knocked and entered. She was sitting there, late as it may be, eyes turned on his unexpected entrance. She saw the baby and made no signs of surprise.

He handed the child out to her, and she received his son without a word.

"His name is Rilian," he told her. She had a tender look on her face and said nothing.

Caspian left them there, and went out into the castle. He wandered alone, seeking, as he had not done for many months, the peace he knew he would not find. He passed through the room where she had lived for the few months they had been given. He climbed the steps to the tower and turned around. He hid among the treasure, staring at the empty shelf where the Horn should be. Nothing could still him. Weary, he finally staggered to a spare room near the back of the castle. He turned the rusty key in the lock and settled himself at a window that faced the ocean.

The plans had all been arranged; everything mapped out to fit history as it should be, to outline the rest of his days. Tomorrow his wife would emerge from their chambers with the baby, proclaiming an heir, his firstborn. "I birthed the child alone, the way my own mother did," she would say. And the people of Narnia would rejoice in the birth of their next king. None but Drinian and Doctor Cornelius would ever know the true circumstances, for he had decided long ago that Rilian would never be told.

Caspian found himself indifferent to these things, so carefully thought out and sorted over the course of Lucy's stay. He did not feel the weight of guilt that had plagued his moments for nearly a year. Neither was there anything for worry anymore; no fear of discovery, for all had transpired accordingly. There was only the knowledge of what would come to be, and it was less of an acceptance than a forced awareness: He could do nothing. His mind was numb and wandering, and his thoughts would not dwell on anything, least of all on what would come tomorrow.

There were still reasons to live and rejoice – he had beloved friends, a son to raise, and a country still in need of guidance. Yet the world seemed duller, empty of the meaning and promise it had once held. He felt as though he had lived many lives, and had many more to bear through.

_There are tasks to be done and destinies to be fulfilled._

He stared out onto the fading horizon, straining his eyes eastward.

* * *

**A/N: **There you go. I actually feel quite sad that I've finished, but definitely relieved. I would greatly appreciate feedback; positive, negative, whatever opinion you've got. If you're curious to see how Lucy dealt with life back in England, I've written a sequel with the title Like Broken Glass. There are also some extra scenes I didn't include in this story that can be found in my collection of sideshots, Odds and Ends.

In addition, you can find more Lucian stories in my C2, Lucy and Caspian: I Known What You Mean.

_THANKS:_

_The first credit must go to Francienyc for inspiring this story. Caspian's Queen was such an amazing read; thank you for giving the Lucian fans the gift of that story and I hope I did you justice._

_To the story about Susan's horn that I barely remember, and can't even recall if I liked or not, that gave me a way to unite Caspian and Lucy._

_To all my most boring classes junior and senior year, especially Theology, Government & Economics, and College English. Where I would be without all that brainstorming time, I can't imagine. My stories probably wouldn't exist at all._

_To my brilliant and wonderful Elective English and AP European History teachers, whose eye-opening lessons undoubtedly contributed to my writing in ways much deeper than I realize._

_To Wikipedia, which I honestly used every other paragraph to research every little detail and give my story some grounding. Many thanks also to Google, Yahoo!, and Dictionary (dot com)._

_And lastly, to all the readers and kind reviewers for all their feedback and support. You guys are so the best._


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